


The Grey Wind of Robb Stark

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Robb Stark, a powerful warg, survives  a traitorous encounter at his uncle's wedding.  The battlefield is a life he understands, but being homeless, without an army, and betrayed with enemies everywhere makes him as vulnerable on the war-torn road as any well-trained warrior.





	1. The Red Wedding Reversal

Robb noticed his mother's worry when  _that_ song began.  Instinctually, his thoughts called to Grey Wind.  A crossbow bolt hit Robb in the shoulder.  The pain quickly vanished as nothing but the thirst of battle took control of him.  Catelyn looked at her son.  "Robb!" she screamed.  He wanted to think it was out of grief, but he could tell the fear was directed towards him.  At times like this, he knew he became something beyond human.

Dacey Mormont was about to be killed.  He yanked the bolt of his shoulder and dashed towards Roose Bolton.  Confusion spread over his face as blood sprayed out of his throat and mouth.  The king took  Roose's sword before the body even dropped, then arched it around and lobbed off the nearest enemy's head.  Dacey grabbed his sword.  Robb saw Jon Umber kick up a table in the confusion.  He and Catelyn took cover.  All eyes shifted to Robb as the crossbowmen were reloading. 

Shouts, yells, and screams started to draw close.  "It knocked the cage over!" someone cried.  Growls and tearing sounds were then heard.  When the first man appeared, his eyes grew large and his teeth clattered as he met Robb.  The king pushed the sword through his throat, then cut off the head of the next while Dacey defended herself against another.  Grey Wind helped her. 

Footsteps and more shouts echoed closer.  Soon, more Frey men would be on them.  "Jon!" Robb shouted.  The big man understood.  He ran towards the weapon rack.  Bolts came firing at him, but their aim was sloppy.   

Dacey slammed the door then stood firm in front of it.  Jon joined her side.

Robb jumped on a table, hunched over, and Grey Wind leapt off his back.  The wolf landed on the overlook and began slaughtering the crossbowmen.  Robb looked towards Walder Frey and walked towards him.  The old man looked about to shit his pants, maybe for the second or third time.  Robb's stare of contempt caused him to grasp at his heart.  "Too good for you," Robb muttered as he looked around.  Grey Wind was back on ground level, slaughtering incoming Frey men alongside Jon and Dacey. 

Robb headed towards the bedding chamber.  The party was still going on outside the door.  The Frey men looked shocked, and Robb's loyal men noticed the blood on him.  Greatjon Umber immediately punched the closest Frey in the face.

Edmure opened the door, his dick waving in the wind.  "What is going on here?!" he whined.  Robb raised a brow at his uncle.  He was surprised he had even shown himself. 

The area was a full on brawl, but that did not last long.  Robb grew more and more bloody, and soon the Freys began begging for mercy.  He had none to give.  Once he and his men stood among bloodied corpses, Robb turned to his uncle and said, "Walder Frey is dead.  As is Roose Bolton.  They meant to betray us."  The women cowered in the corner, some shrieking.

"Are...are they still fighting?"

"Yes,  _they_ are.  Get back in 'your' room, uncle."  Edmure didn't even have the dignity to understand he had just been insulted.   He nodded, fear exploding in his eyes, and shut the door behind him. 

Robb and his men returned to the main hall.  For the time, it seemed the fighting was over.  Grey Wind ran to Robb's side.  A bolt was sticking out of him, but it had barely gotten through his fur.  With every fight the creature became more a monster and its fur seemed to get thicker.  Robb pulled out the bolt.

"They are just going to keep coming," Smalljon said.

"Most of our men are probably dead by now," Catelyn said.  

"Gear up," Robb Stark demanded.  "They won't expect us to be alive."

"Are we going to fight our way out?" asked Dacey.

"I'm for it," Smalljon declared, and his father nodded.

"We should stay here and let them come to us," Catelyn said.  Robb shot her a look.

"If we wait here,  _all_ our men will definitely die, and they could just lay siege upon us if they even needed to," Greatjon said.  

"We fight," the king declared.  He could tell his mother didn't like it, so he just pointed down the hall, towards her brother.  She didn't seem to understand.  "Mother, you _will_ go get your brother.  He's fine and well in the bedchamber."  Catelyn walked towards him and then they embraced.  Without any words, she turned and walked away.  

"Our best chance is to dress as them," Robb said.  Greatjon sneered, but everyone obliged.

"And what about the wolf?" Dacey asked.  

"He'll trail us from afar.  Hopefully the chaos will let him escape."  The thought made Robb's heart heavy.  

Catelyn returned with her brother, and his wife.  "He insisted," she told her son.  He shook his head.

After Catelyn, Edmure, and the Frey were caught up and dressed in enemy colors, all but Robb and Grey Wind headed towards the door.  The boy glanced at the corpses and scratched Grey Wind behind the ear.  His somber eyes then met his companion's, and he knew the creature understood.

 

 

 


	2. Crossing Escape

Long shadows were cast by the fires.  More were fleeing than fighting.  Well, of his men, at least.  There were so few left compared to the enemy, but still, it was chaos.  He could hear a party of Frey men, those not engaged in combat, hollering, likely getting drunk.  They cheered the slaughter of his people, the betrayal, and the end of a king.  Robb glanced at his mother.  A howl overtook the noises of men, and Robb had to restrain one sense of duty for another.

"We need to keep moving," his mother said.  Her eyes looked hallow.

"To where?" asked the Greatjon.

"Horses.  Then to the Eyrie.  We won't make it back to Riverrun.  Passing another tower and castle is too danger."

Robb hated this idea of retreat, especially to the Eyrie.  In a way, this war had started because his mother made a detour to Eyrie.  "We go north.  Once we're out of the Crossing, we'll have much to discuss," he said.  

"I don't think we can take horses from here," Dacey said.  "I don't think they are going to just let us steal four horses.  If we're caught, surely they will chase us."

"Surely we can find a few loose ones.  Men must of tried to escape, and even some Frey knights probably died," Catelyn said.

"We don't have time for debate," Robb stated.  "Once they find out Walder Frey is dead they will come after us.  We move.  If  we come across horses, we take them."

"Lucky for us murdering houseguests is about the only thing I have seen a Frey be good out," said the Greatjon.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say so," Edmure laughed.  Catelyn gave her a brother a look.

"Yes, so, we move," commanded Robb, taking a quick step away from his uncle.  The party picked up their pace.

"Well, she  _is_ a pretty little traitor," Smalljon said loudly as if the Frey woman wasn't even there. 

Robb wondered how his uncle would of survived if he weren't the heir to Riverrun.  His men may be crude, but they were loyal, and the few times he had a chance to really drink they had made good company.  More so, they understood war.  The Frey girl made a poor hostage, but he doubted his uncle even considered her one.  All of a sudden he knew why Jamie Lannister was now free.  How, he wondered, did his uncle the Blackfish turn out the way he did?  Robb had mad his own mistakes, but if only his mother had listened to him, as her son and king, they would not be in this situation.  If Sansa was hurt then one of the most important man to Tywin would perhaps never be seen by him again.  His mother acted purely on emotion.  To her, it wasn't that the Eyrie was the wisest place to go, but that is was the safest.  Was there somewhere he overlooked?  Then Robb realized his own fault.  His overwhelming sense of honor combined with being Catelyn Tully's son was a dangerous combination.  What does the winter do to river?  He almost laughed.  He had to become more like the wolf and gently feast upon the fish.  And what else do wolves prey on?

A yell interrupted Robb's thoughts.  Reluctantly, Robb drew his sword.  Cold blood splattered on his face.  Robb stood in silence.

"You had no choice," his mother said.  Robb walked on but didn't take his eyes off the emblem of the dire wolf for as long as could.

A howl made Robb shake his head free of guilt.  Grey Wind was still out there and doing his best to lure the enemy away from Robb.  _Yes_ , he thought.  _Don't fight them directly.  Come back to me._   He was hopeful for the first time that night, but knew the dire wolf was still an animal of the pack.

"A horse," Catelyn said.  The creature was a bit of a ways away, but so was the exit, in a different direction.  One horse might be worth it for Robb, but what would he have if he were alone?  Grey Wind might come back, and as king it was his duty to survive,  but was he even really still a king?

"It's not worth it," Robb said.

"There might be more roaming outside."

"True," Robb admitted.  "Alright.  I'll try to get it, but continue on.  I'll catch right up, one way or another."

The horse clearly did not like the scent Robb brought, but the beast was somewhat backed into a corner.  A fire had scared it away from the gate and brought it up against a wall.  Robb crept over, trying his best to be unfrightening, but give off the impression that the horse had no choice in the matter.  It tried to run past him, but Robb slung himself onto its back and immediately tried to guide the creature.  He had been raised since a song age to know horses: how to ride them, how to sooth them, and how to take care of them, but to ease a scared, unfamiliar creature was not an easy task.

The thing brought Robb hundreds of yards in the wrong direction before he finally took control of it.  Some of the enemy were now amongst him and giving him looks.  "Spooked," Robb said between clenched teeth.  He wanted nothing more than to stain the ground.

When he caught up to his party they were already past the castle.  The gates had been opened, likely from traders leaving the incident.  

"Welcome back, Robb," his mother said with a small smile.

"Yes, mother," Robb said, stopping to look back towards the calamity.

"We must go."

Robb said nothing and did as advised.  

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. The Decision

The abandoned house was dimly lit by a small fire surrounded by the group of weary survivors.  It may not have been very kingly, but growing up in the North had prepared Robb for certain hardships.  Do to recent ones, the group was discussing their next move.  Many points of the discussion had been gone over a few times already, and Robb's mind couldn't help but wander to Grey Wind, splicing his attention until a certain topic was brought up.

"Roose's bastard has control of your father's home,  _your_ throne."

"Yes, but what can we do about it?"   

"We pray.  Pray that my sister will see the sense in lending us the Knights of the Vale."

"I've heard enough of your prayers, mother," Robb Stark said.  His mother's face grew distraught.  She glanced into the fire.  "We have to leave in the morning, and either path is vastly different than the other."

"We should get word to my mother and Galbart Glover as quickly as possible, "Dacey said, for the third time.

"And we'll find a raven on our way to the Vale, surely," Catelyn said.  "Your mother and Galbart Glover should be in no real danger.  I'm sure they'll have sense enough to stay at or near Greywater Watch.  My sister will never adhere our pleas if we do not show up in person, and we need her knights if we hope to take Winterfell back."

"Our sister can't be relied upon," began Edmure.

"Even your brother has no faith in her," Dacey muttered.  

"But, I am her elder brother, Lord of Riverrun, and Robb is king.  It is possible," he continued.

"If we get stuck at Greywater we'll have the Lannisters at the south, and the Greyjoys and Boltons north," said Greatjon.

"How likely is it that Ramsay Snow will man the Dreadfort?" Robb asked.

"No idea."

"I think it'll be vulnerable."

"What makes you say that?" his mother asked.

"I don't think this Snow cares more about the Dreadfort than Winterfell.  Clearly he cared more of Winterfell than Theon Greyjoy did.  He'll want to make sure he holds Winterfell as a symbol of his wardenship over the north.  Perhaps to even earn himself a name."  His mother looked at him, and Robb thought he saw a hint of pride in her eyes, but it wasn't her approval he wanted.  Still, it felt right.  "If we meet Lady Mormont and Lord Glover in person we may be able to convince them to send what men they have left to our aid.  That is the only benefit of going to Greywater Watch."

"I'd say so," said the Greatjon.  "But even if we took the Dreadfort, with such little men we could never take Winterfell.  What would be the point?"

"Yes, Your Grace, what _would_ be the point?" asked Catelyn.  "With the Knights of the Vale we could claim both."

"With all due respect, my mother owes loyalty to the King, while your sister owes none," Dacey said. 

"But what do we do once we claim the Dreadfort?"

"I see only one option," Robb replied.  "We bend the knee to Stannis Baratheon."

"Robb, you can't!"

"You forget yourself, mother."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace, but Stannis is not a man who will forget what he perceives as treason.  Gods, he murdered his own brother!"

Robb straightened himself out.  "There is something you should all know," he began, taking the time to look each in the eye before continuing.  "I have been in contact with Stannis Baratheon.  We have somewhat of a truce at the moment, and agreed to settle our own matters once the business with the Lannisters is done."  His mother's face contorted into shock, as if to ask how he could make such a decision without her knowing.  Others also looked taken aback, but no one said anything.  At this point, it was almost good news.  "We have only openly rebelled against the Lanisters, and to have loyalty in the North would mean a lot for Stannis.  I think we can trust him."

"Please, Robb, my sister, your aunt...."

"It will take too much time and be for naught should she refuse us.  Then, it'll just look as if I'm crawling on my hands and knees to Stannis.  No, if we're going to do this, we have to decide one way or the other, while I still have my dignity."

"I don't want to bend the knee to another Baratheon after the show I put on," Greatjon said.

"But you will," replied Robb Stark.

"Aye.  I will."  His face was red.

"Just to be clear, I am still your king.  This is a decision I have made after great consideration, and with the utmost caution.  There is no reason for it to be considered final until we capture the Dreadfort and send word to Stannis."

"I hate every bit of this."

"I do too, but what choice do we have?"

"We die fighting."

"I can't leave Winterfell in the hands of the Boltons, or the Lannisters.  If we die fighting, just what do you think will happen to your people?  They will have to bend the knee anyhow.  Rather it the Baratheons than the Lannisters."  Robb's voice was ice.  "This does not mean we have given in as men of the North.  This is merely necessary for all our houses."

"It sounds as if you have a plan," Dacey said.

"You can't mean to betray Stannis," laughed Smalljon.  After a moment of silence, he added, "can you?"

"No. The honor of the North will not allow that," Robb Stark stated. 

"Good, because I'd have to kill you myself," Greatjon said.

"Yes, and I'll let that slide given the circumstances."

"Then what is it?" Dacey asked.

"I just get the feeling that Stannis Baratheon may soon betray himself."  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Stray Wolves

The wolves were howling again.  Arya could barely see a few feet past the horse's head, but it would be morning soon.  The thud of the horses' trot didn't let her sleep, however.  Normally, she had gotten used to it, but that night they only brought back memories from the Twins: the running, the yelling, the cluttering, the fire, the massacre - all too much, but worst of all was the Hound's words.  She wouldn't be going back to her mother and brother.  She didn't want to believe it, but it felt so irrational to have hope.

The sound of the hooves grew louder, and echoed, and Arya just wanted to sleep.  Make it all go away, she wished.  Let her wake up and everything be normal again.  Be at Winterfell with everyone: her mom, dad, Jon, Robb, Bran, Rickon, Nymeria, and even Sansa.  And everyone else.  She had acted so tough, but the night always revealed the truth of it all, until she hid in her mantra.  Of course, she would never admit this truth to herself.  She was a vessel of pure hatred and revenge, after all.

The Hound.  How she hated the monster who took her hostage.  He had protected her, shared his food with her, and even helped her when he didn't need to, but Arya was certain it was all for his own benefit.  That false kindness made her even angrier.  And he had laughed when he admitted to cutting down Mycah.  He was no friend, and she wouldn't allow herself to care about him - not one bit.  But she also couldn't deny that she admired his strength.  It was different than her water dancing.  It was a strength she had seen all her life, and one that allowed him to wear armor so heavy that it intimated her to even think about ever trying something like it on.  Would she fall over like a fool, and perhaps even be crushed?  And his combat skills coupled with the armor had made it impossible for her kill him, even though he was always right near her.  Hell, the monster was clenching her in his steal claws as she thought.  But despite everything, she had to admit she felt safe around him, and that'd mean a lot if she cared.

The Hound pulled on the reins of his horse, and they slowed down.  "What's going on? "Arya asked.

"Quiet, kid," the Hound responded.  Arya then heard that there was a second set of hooves.  Her heart raced.  A chance to escape?  A chance to kill him?

The morning was slowly lifting the veil that obstructed their visibility, but as they continued on, the sound of the unknown hooves became softer, and softer.   _No!_ Arya thought.  _Don't leave!  He deserves to die!  Someone, anyone, kill him!  Please!_

"Only one horse," the Hound muttered, then hit the reins.  Stranger kicked up speed again.  

 _Yes!_ Arya's thoughts yelled as her chest became light and tingled.  She forced a smile away.   _Another chance!_ Arya had tried her hardest not to think about the many times the Hound had escaped death, but the simple truth of the matter forced her to steel herself.   _Every opportunity...take advantage, and strike like the water dancers._  But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't come up with a plan.  Often more than not, she hated to admit it, but the people they ran into were even worse than the Hound.

As they went along, Arya thought she could hear the second pair of hooves getting louder.  She couldn't hold the smile back, and she imaged the worry she also felt made her look somewhat deranged.

"Seems they want company," the Hound said.  "Either that, or there are people on foot."

 _Oh, please!_ thought Arya.   _Let it be a whole bunch of good men who can kill him._ Just as she was thinking that, a shimmer of red hair caught her eye.   _Sansa?_

It wasn't Sansa.  "Mother!" Arya shouted.  She tried to twist and leap off the horse, but the Hound clenched her tightly.  

"Impossible," he growled.  Arya was surprised he hadn't scolded her.  Arya wasn't certain, either, but his reaction said a lot.  The warmth in her chest was an indescribable feeling that she thought long lost.

The owner of the red hair turned, then so did the others.  "Mother!  Robb!" Arya shouted at the top of her lungs.

"Shut up, fool!" the Hound demanded, then covered her mouth with gauntlet.  "You think there aren't Freys looking for them?  How stupid can you be."

Arya didn't care.  She didn't even mind the cold steel.  All she cared about was the look of joy on her mother's face, and how Robb and whoever else he was with were making their way over to her.

"Arya!" her mother said, but then her face twisted into sadness.  She must have realized who had her.

"Arya?" Robb asked from atop his horse.  

"Aye, it's her," the Hound said.  

"Sandor Clegane.  I thank you for caring for my little sister.  I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd return her to me."

"You know I can't just do that.  I've fed her and taken care of her, just for you.  I expect a reward."

"And I am grateful, and would love to reward you," Robb said, glancing at his mother.  She looked as if she just wanted to rush over to Arya.  "Unfortunately, we have come across some truly troubling times.  I don't seem to have the kind of gold you'd want, but I'd gladly compensate you later."

"On your honor as a knight?"

"No, my honor as a king, and brother, and son."

Arya heard the hound snort.  "We seem to have a problem."

"Aye, we do."  Robb's look was stern.  He hadn't changed much since Arya last saw him, but there was something in his eyes, and his voice that she didn't recognize.

 _He'll do it, he'll kill him once I'm safe_ , she thought, but it was now hard to hold onto the anger such thoughts made.

"I'll keep the girl for now, then," the Hound said.  All of Arya's anger returned.  

"No!" her mouther shouted.

"Stop it, mother.  He won't hurt her.  Even if he intended to, not even the Hound would escape alive." Robb said. 

"You have one horse, kid.  Do you really think you can take me in single combat?"

"I don't care to find out, but if I die, then her value as a hostage to the Lannisters all but disappears.  That is, if that false king of Tywin would even forgive you for desertion." 

"My brother is a loyal banner man of his."

"Please, don't bullshit me.  Everyone knows he doesn't give a damn about you."  The Hound didn't respond to that.  "Sandor, we are heading to some loyal banner men of mine.  It'll be safe there.  Let Arya go, and come with us."

"Might I just come with, but the girl stays with me," the Hound said.

"Hand her over and I'd be _most_ appreciative.  After we meet with the Reeds, we will take the Dreadfort."

"Those swamp people?  You want me to go there?"

"Surely you're not scared."

The Hound grunted.  

"Help us take the Dreadfort, and you can have anything you want outside the castle itself," Robb said.

"You want me to fight for you?"

 _What?_ Arya thought.   _No!  Kill him!  He killed Mycah!_

"What choice do you have if you want a reward?"

The Hound was quiet for a good while.  "Fine.  But I expect good bedding, drink, and food at the next stop we find."

"Fair enough," Robb said.

The Hound let go of Arya.  She looked up at him.  He gave her an ugly smile.  "Well, get going, kid." 

She did.  She jumped off the horse and ran to her mother.  She felt her mother's arms wrap around her, then heard the sound of her crying softly.  "I thought you were dead," her mother whimpered.  "I was so scared.  So worried."   

"I missed you, mommy," Arya said, forgetting her hard self.  All she could think about was the warmth and safety she had forgotten.

 


	5. A Caged Wolf

_"Kill him!  Kill him!  You have to!"_

_"Not.  Another word on the matter."_

And she had stared in disbelief, feeling helpless, and like a great injustice was puppeteering the world.  And she was the only one aware of it. 

Stupid Robb.  Wasn't he supposed to be on her side?  Her brother?   _The_ wolf of Winterfell?  He was King in the North.  He could do anything, and if there was one truth Arya knew, it was that the Lannisters and their men deserved to die.  Especially a choice few that she was more than willing to name to anyone who would listen.  But there was no one.  No one but this small group, which would not hear her.  She looked at her mother, but still felt alone.

The heat of the flames tickled her feet (her boots were drying nearby).  Why did _they_ need a fire?  _They_ were born from Winter.  Arya felt her cheeks stretch and a sick joy consumed her heart.  She knew she should try to hide it (it'd be the proper thing to do), but she couldn't care less.   _He_ was afraid of fire.  How pathetic was that?

Arya moved closer to the flames.  The wicked smile stretched beyond reality, and she made sure to hold it there.  It was childish, she knew, but she couldn't care less.  If this was all the world would give her in terms of justice, she'd take it.  She'd revel in it and dream of—

"Girl,"  _that_ rough voice said.  She had grown so accustomed to it that she wasn't even startled.  However, it annoyed her that she was so easily snuck up upon.

"What do you want,  _monster?_ " Arya asked.  She stared into the flames.  Maybe they'd dance up and light him.   _That'd be a sight_ , she thought.

"I get you hate me," the Hound said.  His boots rattled as he stepped closer behind her.  She could feel the weight of his shadow.  "I don't care.  But it'd be damn good if I slept with one less knife to my throat."

"Well, you've gotten your wish, so shut up," Arya said.  She wrapped her fingers around her shoulders.  "You're stupid.  Even Sansa is smarter than you."

"Girl, you don't know shit," he said.

The words made Arya angry, but she found it senseless to dwell on that.  "What do you mean?" she asked.

"If you keep going this way you'll either hate everyone, or be blind.  You think I am a beast, but this is war.  It always has been.  If I didn't kill your friend, it'd of just been someone else.  Get over it."

"I don't want your stupid excuses!"

"Not an excuse.  Do you think your brother is better than me?  How much do you want to bet he's killed some kid who had no idea why he was fighting?  Some kid that knew nothing, but was forced onto the battlefield?  How many women do you think his men raped?  Kings, knights, peasants, Starks, Lannisters—in the end, the only difference is strength. "

"You're wrong!  We're nothing like them!  Like you said, this is war!"

"Girl, life is war.  You Starks may have your words, and your honor, but on the battlefield, everyone is the same."

A harsh wind swept away a lot of the flames.  Arya shivered.  Maybe there was some truth in his words.  If that were the case, then everyone who wasn't loyal to the Starks should just die.  It was the only reliable answer.  

_"If you keep going this way you'll either hate everyone, or be blind."_

There was another way, but how could someone with so much hate win hearts?  It didn't matter.  Even if the Starks reined on top, she had little strength.  Now she started to understand what Sansa was trying to be, or rather what others had tried to groom her to be.  Was a woman's only strength in keeping men in check? 

No.  Not her.

She wouldn't kill the Hound, and it was _only_ because Robb had demanded it.  But she'd kill the Lannisters.  The Greyjoys.  And whoever else got in her way.  And it wouldn't be for hatred, either.  It would be for her father.  For Sansa (wherever she was).  For Bran.  For Rickon.  For Jon (you'll be proud of me).  Mycah.  Her mom, and Robb.

That night, Arya dreamt of two wolves walking towards a glow (it felt miles away) inside of a broken shack.  


	6. Trades

It was about a week in when they ran out of food.  A squirrel here and there was hardly enough for the group of nine.  Robb was a decent hunter, but he never imaged how hard it would be to feed even such a small group without the help of his small folk.

Everyone was on edge.  They knew they were generally heading in the right direction, but because they had to stick to the trees to avoid Lannister and Frey scouts, they must have missed the local inn.  

"We'll have to eat a horse," his mother said.  She was shaking in her cloak.  "Give the order, Robb."

Robb glanced at the Hound and Stranger.

"Not on your life," the large man said.  He walked the insane beast by the reins and placed a hand behind his back, over his longsword.  

"He's the king," Catelyn said.

"I'm no knight, and he's no king of mine," the Hound replied.

The Umbras and Dacey tensed.  Arya smirked.

"Robb," his mother said again.

He looked over the Hound.  Robb was no fool.  This man was twice his size and at least three times as experienced.  It'd take him and at least Smalljon to kill him, and he doubted one of them wouldn't die.  Even if all four of them (he had no presumptions about his uncle) rushed the Hound, Robb had small doubts that one wouldn't be killed.  If he could help it, he'd have no more of his people killed.

Robb drew his sword and stared the Hound down.  "I might not be your king, and you are no dog of mine, but I ask you, please," he said.

The Hound spit on the ground.  "If Stranger goes, I'll be the only one eating tonight," he said.

The horse obviously meant something to this burned man.  Robb's shoulders went up with a sigh.  He turned, and with a lightning fast strike, slit his horse's throat.

It was day, so it was alright to light a fire.  The sparks crackled as Robb sat on the large stone that had been gathered for him.  He took a bite into the meat.  Then another.  The juices, the blood, there was nothing like it.  It had been a week since he last had a decent meal.

After he had feasted, he cut some meat and walked over to the Hound.

"I don't need your charity," the large man said.

"Not charity.  I may not be your king, but you are my soldier, are you not?"

The Hound looked up at him.  He grabbed the meat.  "Aye.  So long as you pay."

That night, Robb dreamt that wolves were closing in on a dead horse.  

  


End file.
